74: On To Avallónë

The meeting between the kings and Ingwion and the leaders of Tavrobel went well and at the end of it there was an agreement to open up trade relations and to have trade agreements in place before the winter solstice.

“Until a centralized government is in place, we will have to make separate agreements between the three major towns,” Arafinwë said. “Perhaps the agreement with Tavrobel can become the model for all other agreements so that there is a consensus among us.”

“That makes sense,” Dúlinn said. “Tavrobel is usually the first port of call for any Amanian ship. Under the guildmasters who kept the prices on import goods high, we were forced to send our goods overland, which made it even more prohibitive cost-wise. It would have been more economical for ships to take goods to Avallónë directly.”

“What about Kortirion?” Ingwion asked. “Is it easier to transport goods from this side of the island or the other?”

“It is probably easier to transport goods from Avallónë,” Captain Baradir replied, “for the land between here and Kortirion is steeper and more rugged and the road must wind through the hills. The road between Kortirion and Avallónë is straighter, for the land is somewhat flatter. It is where most of our farming communities are located.”

“Yet, there is still a need to transport goods between Tavrobel and Kortirion,” Sîdhwen said. “If the tariffs on import goods were lowered, then we would be able to use the money for improving the road between the two towns, something we haven’t been able to do before this.”

Olwë shook his head in disbelief. “It seems that some of your own people were more intent on fomenting distrust and anger towards us Amaneldi than they were in improving the conditions under which you all lived.”

“True,” Dúlinn said, looking rueful. “Well, hopefully, things will improve for all of us now that we are aware of the truth of the matter.”

“That is our hope as well,” Arafinwë said and shortly thereafter the meeting ended so all could prepare for the coming feast.

“It will be held in the square before the Town Hall,” Sîdhwen informed them, looking suddenly shy. “I’m afraid it will not be all that fancy or elegant, but....”

“I have no doubt that it will be a lovely feast however plain or fancy it may be,” Arafinwë said graciously, “and probably a lot less boring than some of the feasts I’ve had to endure.”

“Násië,” Ingwion muttered fervently, rolling his eyes, which caused the others to laugh.

****

The feast was, in fact, quite enjoyable. The square was set up with several tables along one side. A high table on a hastily built platform covered with several rich looking carpets stood before the Town Hall facing the large fountain that graced the middle of the square. Awnings were set up behind the tables to provide shade from the summer sun which would not set for a few hours more. Free-standing candelabra stood in strategic places, their candles lit once the sun set, casting a warm glow upon the scene and providing all the illumination needed for the feasters. The feast itself was being catered by several inns, each one responsible for a particular dish. The Blue Dolphin Inn, for instance, provided the sea trout cooked in a butter and almond sauce for the third remove.

There were about fifty townspeople who had been formally invited to the feast, mostly business owners and guildmasters. At Arafinwë’s insistence, the families of the six ellyn whom Glorfindel and Sador had first met were invited to attend the feast and were placed at one of the tables directly below the high table. Hithrían, it turned out, took it upon herself to ensure that some Reborn, besides Saelmir and Nestadôr, who had been in Lórien with either Finrod or Glorfindel were present as well. They, too, were seated close to the high table.

The Amanians came garbed in their finest, the bright gem-studded silks and satins favored by them a sharp contrast to the more subtly textured cloths preferred by the Tol Eressëans. At the insistence of the two kings, there was no formal procession by them to the high table. Instead, Councillor Dúlinn simply announced their approach and everyone stood as Olwë and Arafinwë led the Amanians into the square. Only Arafinwë, Olwë, Ingwion, Finrod, Lindarion, Alassiel and Amarië would be seated at the high table along with Dúlinn, Hithrían, Captain Baradir, Sîdhwen and her husband, a Noldo named Eldacan, who was a member of the Guild of Engineers, responsible for maintaining the bridges, roads and sewers of the town. Everyone else was seated at nearby tables, much to their relief.

While only the more important citizens of the town were invited to attend the feast, there appeared to be a spontaneous decision on the part of many of the other residents to bring their families to the square lugging picnic baskets, settling themselves on blankets on the other side of the fountain from the tables. Dúlinn tried to apologize to the kings for them, but neither Olwë nor Arafinwë objected to their presence and insisted that they not be sent away.

“They obviously wish to join in the merriment even if only vicariously,” Olwë said. “Perhaps, in between the removes we will wander over and visit with them.”

Arafinwë thought that was a good idea and the others agreed. Thus, the feast turned out to have more of a carnival feeling to it. Minstrels and others who performed for the high table were directed by Olwë to wander among the picnickers so that they too could enjoy the entertainment. In between the removes, he and Arafinwë along with the other Amanians visited not only those who were attending the feast proper, but also the other residents, much to their everlasting delight. In spite of the fact that they were picnicking, most of them had donned their best garb for the occasion. The kings, along with their heirs and Ingwion, were seen sharing glasses of wine with one family or another, sitting on the blankets, often dandling a young elfling or two in their arms as they visited with the parents.

At one point, while everyone was waiting for the final remove, Finrod found himself seated beside Hithrían at the high table while her husband was visiting a friend at one of the other tables. It was now quite late in the evening and there was a mellow feeling in the air as people continued to enjoy themselves. An area just before the fountain had been set up for dancing and many were taking advantage of the lull between removes to join in, including even some of the picnickers. The two friends sat there watching the dancing as they sipped their wine and nibbled on some candied fruits.

“So, did you ever write that history of Beleriand you mentioned?” Hithrían suddenly asked Finrod.

“Yes, I did, though it is more a memoir describing my own part of the history,” Finrod answered with a nod. “What happened after my death I leave for others to write about. I have someone working on the illuminations at the moment, and, as I promised you, when it is ready to be bound, I will send it to you.”

“I look forward to reading it,” Hithrían said.

“I plan to have several copies made of it once it is completed,” Finrod said, “and place them in the public archives for any to read. I will make sure that some copies are sent here. Do you have a public archive here in Tavrobel?”

“No, but there is one in Kortirion and in Avallónë,” she answered. “We’re not large enough to warrant one. People tend to simply lend any books they happen to have to their friends and neighbors who ask for them. I have been thinking that it would be nice to have a small library where all such books could be gathered in one place for easier access, but there really are not enough books to justify building a library or even renovating an existing building.”

“Perhaps in time you will be able to collect enough books to warrant having a library for everyone’s use,” Finrod said. “If you would like, when I return to Tirion, I will have our archivists and librarians gather extra copies of books and have them sent to you. Perhaps you could encourage the people here to allow copies of their books to be made for our libraries as well.”

“Most of our books, I fear, are written in Sindarin,” Hithrían said, looking apologetic.

“And all of our books are written in Quenya,” Finrod pointed out with a smile. “There are those of Aman who are interested in learning Sindarin and would enjoy reading original texts in the language. It is something to think about,” he added and Hithrían nodded in agreement and then Dúlinn returned to the table and Finrod excused himself to find Amarië, for he had promised her a dance.

And so the evening ended on a pleasant note for them all and everyone declared the feast to be a resounding success. When the Amanians indicated that they would be leaving for their camp, they were escorted by many of the townspeople bearing torches to light their way, with much singing and laughter as they went.

****

The next morning, before dawn, the encampment was struck and everything sent to the ships while the kings and the main company made their final farewells to the people of Tavrobel who gathered on the quay to see them off. The two swan ships were escorted out of the harbor by several of the Tol Eressëan ships and then they were on their way, taking the southern route around the island to Avallónë.

Much to everyone’s surprise, Glorfindel specifically asked Lindarion to join him on the ship carrying the Noldor while Beleg decided he wished to travel with his uncle. Eärnur went with him, just in case, for in spite of the ginger biscuits that were readily on hand, the former Marchwarden of Doriath still looked decidedly green at the thought of traveling on the sea. This time the voyage would be longer, for they were not intending to reach Avallónë until the next day.

As the ships sailed out of the harbor, Lindarion turned a quizzical look at Glorfindel as the two stood at the rail watching the passing coastline. “Was there a reason why you wished for me to sail with you?” he asked quietly.

Glorfindel glanced around. Others were standing near them, also taking in the view. Glorfindel nodded towards the aft where an awning had been set up for any who wished to have shade. A few chairs were under it along with a table on which were carafes of juice and wine and several cups. At the moment no one was there so the two ellyn had it to themselves. Glorfindel noticed with relief that no one sought to join them, respecting their privacy.

Lindarion sat and stared contemplatively at the Reborn ellon, eyeing Glorfindel’s outlandish front braids. Glorfindel noticed and gave him a quizzical look. Lindarion blushed, realizing he might have been rude.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m not used to seeing this kind of braids. I was surprised to see Findaráto wearing them. I noticed that many Tol Eressëan ellyn wore them and assumed that you and my nephew were copying them for some reason.”

Glorfindel shook his head. “These are warrior braids and you may have noticed that how I do mine is not the same as how Findaráto does his.” Lindarion nodded and Glorfindel lifted one of the braids in his hand. “These are both badges of honor, you might say, as well as a means of identification.” Lindarion raised an eyebrow at that but refrained from speaking. Glorfindel continued. “One has to be initiated into the warrior society in order to be able to wear these braids. There is a whole ceremony involved. Each of the different kingdoms in Endórë had their own style of braids with specific gemstones and beads and pattern of the braids themselves. One only had to look at an ellon and know to whom he owed his allegiance.”

“Rather like the shields I remember you Noldor carried about,” Lindarion said musingly. “I saw them when you came to Alqualondë demanding our ships. I was not sure of the significance of the different designs until I asked Eärwen about them some time later.”

Glorfindel paled at the Teler’s words, but Lindarion’s tone had not been accusatory, merely making a statement of fact and he nodded. “Except one can easily lose a shield in battle. These braids served a third and more poignant purpose: identifying the dead, at least with respect to which lord a particular ellon was bound. Even the Atani warriors whom I saw at the Nirnaeth adopted a similar custom, interweaving different colored ribbons into their hair as a way of declaring themselves. I think those who allied themselves with Nargothrond, Findaráto’s kingdom, wore ribbons of teal blue and gold.”

He paused and picked up the carafe of juice, pouring some into a cup. Lindarion picked up a cup for himself and silently indicated that he would have some juice as well. Then they settled back and there was silence between them for a while. Lindarion was content to follow the other ellon’s lead and did not press for Glorfindel to speak. After a few moments, though, Glorfindel asked a question.

“Do you remember Eärendil and Elwing?”

Lindarion’s eyes widened at the unexpectedness of the question, but he answered readily enough. “Oh yes,” he said, “though I did not meet Eärendil until much later. He was speaking with the Valar. Elwing, however, spent much time with us.”

“Would you tell me about them?” Glorfindel asked simply and there was a hunger in his expression mingled with some other emotion that Lindarion could not readily identify.

“What would you like to know?” Lindarion asked.

“Whatever you can tell me,” Glorfindel replied. “As much as you are willing to.”

Lindarion took a sip of his juice, gazing out and seeing, not the ship and the ocean under a clear blue sky, but a gem-encrusted strand under bright stars where a lone elleth walked, softly singing. “She came north from the Bay of Eldamar,” he finally said. “We had seen the ship coming from the east, shining with the Silmaril and wondered at its import, but Atar forbade any to go and investigate, saying that it was for the Valar to act. Later, we learned that Eärendil had gone up the Calacirya, leaving Elwing behind, for it was his destiny to be the messenger to the Valar, and none other could accompany him. So, she wandered aimlessly along the shore, waiting for his return, and eventually came to Alqualondë.”

He paused to take another sip of his juice, his eyes still seeing another time and place. “Atar had her brought to him as soon as she came to the city,” he continued and gave Glorfindel a wry smile. “She was not very fluent in Quenya, and the way she pronounced some words, well they were almost unintelligible to us. She kept lapsing into Sindarin when her Quenya failed her and that just made it worse.” He chuckled. “Atar finally called one of his loremasters who specializes in languages to speak with her. The two of them had a merry time of it, let me tell you, but in the end we learned who she was and why she was there. Atar was so surprised to learn that she was his brother’s great-granddaughter and was equally grieved to hear of his death and the manner of it.” He shook his head, his expression dark with anger mingled with sorrow. “The Silmarils have ever been a curse. Would that Fëanáro had died before ever creating them.”

“I think many people have similar sentiments where Fëanáro is concerned,” Glorfindel said quietly. “On the other hand, Findaráto told me once that, in spite of all the pain and misery those gems caused us, he is grateful that they were created, because otherwise he would never have left Aman and founded his own kingdom.”

Lindarion gave him a disbelieving look. “But he died, and horribly at that. Why would he be grateful?”

Glorfindel flashed him a brief smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “I died just as horribly, if not more so, but I understand what he means. I would not be the person I am today if Fëanáro had never created the Silmarils and all that followed from that. I would have stayed in Eldamar with my atar and amillë, probably would have entered into the Noldóran’s service, and it would not have been Arafinwë wearing the crown but Finwë and all of us would still remain ignorant of the wider world and our Sindarin kin. At least, one would think, but with Melkor around, I have no doubt that he would have corrupted us in some other ways and perhaps the Light of the Two Trees would still have been destroyed save for what could be salvaged for the creation of Isil and Anar. But, if you will forgive me, we were talking about Elwing.” He gave Lindarion a pointed look and the Teler prince nodded.

“Sorry. I guess it is still a sore point with me,” Lindarion said apologetically, but Glorfindel waved it away with a single gesture, pouring more juice in their cups. “At any rate,” Lindarion continued, “we were quite enthralled by the elleth who yet had the blood of Mortals in her veins.” He frowned slightly and Glorfindel, divining somewhat his emotions spoke.

“Beren, from what I have since learned, was honorable and noble and even Elu Thingol eventually accepted him as his daughter’s husband. Oath or no oath, Findaráto would not have gone with Beren on his quest if he had been anything less than noble of spirit and blood. Beren was of the House of Bëor, the first clan of the Atani whom Findaráto met and ever were they loyal and faithful to him. The Atani, for all their weaknesses, are an admirable people. Turucáno has reason to know this, for it was the Mortals who held the rearguard to our retreat from the Nirnaeth, sacrificing themselves for our sakes.”

Lindarion was silent for a bit, then gave Glorfindel a rueful smile. “We seem to keep getting sidetracked.”

Glorfindel grinned back. “Tell me what you can of their fate,” he said. “I know that the Valar gave them a choice as to which kindred they would belong, and that they chose to be counted among the Firstborn, but no one to whom I have spoken seems to know where they went, for certainly they do not live among us.”

Lindarion shook his head. “Eärendil came to Alqualondë some time later looking for Elwing. He was graciously received by us and Atar acknowledged him as Turucáno’s heir, for Elwing had told us all about the fate of the Noldor and the war that Melkor waged upon the remnant of her people. We feasted them and Eärendil, whose Quenya was much better than Elwing’s, told us more about what was happening in Endórë. They did not stay long, though, for Eönwë came and escorted them back to Valmar. Eärendil we never saw again, but Elwing returned to us at the behest of Ingwë and Arafinwë and the Valar, asking for aid in the coming war. It was her pleas and the fact that she could claim kinship with us that convinced Atar to allow our ships to be used to transport the Host of the West, though he made it clear that none of our people would actually participate in the war.”

“So I’ve been told,” Glorfindel said, “though once there they were very helpful in transporting the wounded to Balar and other havens as well as helping to rescue the survivors as the lands began to sink and ferry them to higher ground.”

Lindarion nodded. “At any rate, Elwing remained with us for some time, but at the last, she desired to depart. For all that she was now counted among the Firstborn, she still felt uncomfortable around us. I am afraid that there were those who were not very welcoming of her because of her mixed heritage. For all that she was now considered to be of Elfkind, she still had the blood of Mortals in her veins and some people could not accept that and thought her less than she was. Atar tried to assure her that he did not feel that way, but in the end, he let her go.”

“But where?” Glorfindel asked. “Where did she go?”

“North,” Lindarion answered, “upon the borders of the Sundering Seas. There is a cove, quite pleasant actually from what I’ve been told, where a white tower was built by us at the behest of the Valar for her use. Eärendil eventually went there to live with her and as far as I know they are still there.”

“Alone?” Glorfindel enquired.

Lindarion shrugged. “I think over time a few others have gone there to live, but truthfully, I do not know the answer to your question. As far as I do know, that is where they are. Neither apparently feel comfortable among us Eldar because of their Mortal heritage and so they live apart.”

“A pity,” Glorfindel said with a sigh. “Turucáno was quite accepting of Tuor and doted on his grandson. He never disparaged Eärendil’s mixed heritage and in fact was quite proud of him. All could see the love and devotion that existed between them.” He took another sip of his juice, his eyes narrowing in thought, gazing out upon the ocean. Then he turned to Lindarion. “North, you say?”

Lindarion nodded. “Somewhere on the borders of the Sundering Seas. There are many small coves along that way but I cannot tell you which one is theirs.”

“Would there be those who would know, those who helped in the building of the tower?” Glorfindel enquired.

“Yes,” Lindarion said, “but you would have to come to Alqualondë to speak with them.”

Glorfindel nodded, his gaze turning back to the ocean view and for a time the two ellyn sat in companionable silence, each with their own thoughts. Lindarion wandered through the past as he remembered the perelleth who was the great-granddaughter of an uncle he had never met, while Glorfindel contemplated the future and made plans.

****

Násië: (Quenya) Amen.

Perelleth: (Quenya) Half-Elf maiden.